


The Piece That You Get

by eggshellseas



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Barebacking, Emotionally Repressed Fluff, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Mildly Rough Cuddling, Play Fighting, Power bottom seth, Protective Seth, Teasing, Topping from the Bottom, mildly rough sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 13:44:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12706185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggshellseas/pseuds/eggshellseas
Summary: Seth still knows just how to handle a post-match Dean.





	The Piece That You Get

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fr00tb4t](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fr00tb4t/gifts).



As absolutely exhausted as matches always leave Dean, he’s never able to sleep after. It can be helpful when he’s got to hit the road again right away, but it’s a wired, jittery buzz that makes him want to fight or fuck or drink himself into a coma. It’s been years since Seth has been there for these comedowns, but he falls back into the rhythm - maybe not easily - Dean hasn’t made any of this easy, but Seth feels some smug satisfaction at still knowing just how to handle his teammate.

Dean’s pacing his hotel room restlessly, shooting his mouth off, while Seth kicks back on the bed and waits for Dean to run out of steam. “You left me to take all the knocks tonight, didn’t you?” Dean mutters. “Yeah, you’re the Architect, right? You set me up and I knock ‘em down, ain’t that right, Sethy?” There’s no pause yet, so Seth lets him keep going. “We’re the champs, but I’m your pitbull, that’s what it is.” He does stop then, glancing over at Seth, and Seth’s pulse kicks up a notch at the heat in Dean’s eyes.

“If that were true, I’d be able to keep you on a much shorter leash.” Seth manages to keep his voice even, but there’s a promise there that crackles between them like electricity.

Dean bounces on his toes and licks his lips. “You’d like that,” he says, “Man, you’d like that.”

Seth smiles, uncrosses his ankles, and sits up. Dean tenses, eyeing him warily, and there is something canine about him like that, like a dog catching a suspicious scent. He even gives a little growl when he jumps right up onto the bed, actually managing to stick his landing, at least until Seth swings a leg to knock his feet out from under him. It’s not that much height, but it’s still a heavy thump of a fall. Good thing they’re both experts at taking those, Seth thinks. He knows how to time his breath so he doesn’t get the wind knocked out of him, and Dean knows how to distribute his weight, in this case with a slow roll of his hips and chest, and then Seth has trouble breathing for an entirely different reason.

Quick as possible, Seth grabs Dean by the hair and yanks him into a vicious kiss. Dean leans into it, sloppy and hungry, and it distracts him enough that Seth gets a chance to flip them over. It’s not particularly smooth, and Dean grunts when he gets a knee jabbed into his ribs as Seth clambers on top, but it's bracketed with laughter.

“Come on, I've already gotten beat up enough tonight,” he protests.

“But you can take some more, can’t you?” Seth says, voice low, and okay, he can’t go as deep or gravelly as Ambrose, but Dean still whines and arches beneath him, pawing at Seth’s hips to try and get some pressure on his dick. Seth gives it to him for a moment, grinding his ass down, but then he rocks up on his knees, ignoring Dean’s sound of protest. He strips his own shirt off before wrestling with Dean's. Once it's free and fluttering to the floor, Dean feints like he's going for a head butt. Seth mostly suppresses the instinct to flinch, and then presses his palm to Dean’s forehead and shoves him back down, following close to bite at Dean’s jaw and neck.

“You did so awesome,” he says between little nips, “Knew you'd never tap out.” He can't stop touching the spots on Dean's torso where his skin is red - bright where it's chafed, darker where he’s going to bruise. Even when he’s beat, he’s never broken, and Seth has admired and hated and loved that about him all in turn.

“Yeah, I did good,” Dean says smugly, scrabbling with one hand to try and get both their pants down while he works his other into Seth’s bun, pressing Seth’s mouth tighter to his throat. “Love watching me take a pounding, don’t you?” he says, and it's completely unfair how he makes it sound like the sexiest line ever when it's just a terrible double-entendre, and Seth cracks and snorts, but he’s also rutting his cock against Dean's thigh, so turned on he feels like he could explode.

He puts a little too much pressure on Dean’s left shoulder when he sits back up to hear Dean’s ragged gasp. He does it again for the way it makes Dean bite his lip against a bright smile. Because like how Seth loves the burn of a good workout, Dean craves that pain that tells him he gave his all in the match.

“You think I like being on the other side of the rope, feeling helpless, watching you get your ass beat?” Seth asks. Dean’s expression sours, displeased with the detour, but Seth flexes his adductors and grabs Dean’s right shoulder as well, keeping him mostly still, and continues, “You know, sometimes I think you don’t want me in. You’ve been spending an awful lot of time in the opposite corner.”

“Fuck you,” Dean says, slow and challenging.

Seth slaps him across the face for that, not overly hard, the kind of patronizing gesture he used to favor in their matches. It doesn’t rattle Dean at all. He just laughs huskily and says, “Do that again.”

“Fuck you,” Seth says back, and pets at his chest instead. Dean laughs again, sharper this time, and gets a hand on Seth’s cock, and it’s like Seth didn’t even know he was waiting for it, so caught up in paying attention to Dean’s needs, but the sudden surge of that touch makes everything seem so much more urgent.

He doesn’t spare a lot of time to get himself ready. Lube is already in easy reach on the nightstand. No condoms, because they stupidly hadn’t the first time, and it was so stupidly good that they'd managed an approximation of an actual adult conversation so they could keep fucking bare, and Seth was maybe a little desperate to have nothing in between them whichever way they did it. He looks right at Dean the whole time he’s fingering himself open - Dean, who’s got this focused little glare of impatience on his face, another tell that Seth still knows how to read, and each instance like this makes Seth feel more calmed and confident that they’ll be alright, and more than anything he just wants Dean to feel the same way about him.

Seth reaches back farther to stroke Dean slick, and then, holding him steady, shifts so he can work himself down on Dean’s cock. He doesn’t allow himself any hesitation, powers right through the slight pain and discomfort because it’s more important to have Dean in him as deeply as he can right the fuck now.

Dean’s nostrils flare as his breath goes heavy and panting, and he grabs the tops of Seth’s thighs and then rakes his nails down. Seth groans a drawn-out, “Fuck,” and gropes for Dean’s hands to yank his arms up over his head. He leans down, not close enough to kiss - that would mean relinquishing some of Dean’s cock, but enough that he doesn’t need to go louder than a rough whisper. “Don’t let Sheamus and Cesaro get in your head. I'm with you, okay? I'm with you.”

Dean's head drops back and his eyes slam shut, either because of or to escape the declaration. “M’not,” he mumbles, “I know they’re full of shit.”

Seth rewards him by lifting up and then sinking back down on Dean’s cock in a slow glide. He gets a giddy rush watching Dean’s fingers curl and his wrists flex, knowing he’s fighting his own instinct to fight Seth’s hold. It makes his desire to take care of Dean even stronger - wants to indulge and protect as much as Dean will let him.

He sets a rhythm that works Dean’s dick mercilessly, making sure he’s getting the full thrust in and out, clenching around him on the down stroke. Seth waits for the deep furrow between Dean’s brows that means he’s almost there, and then he changes tack, rocking shallow and deliberate right where his prostate gets rubbed just right. One hand planted on Dean’s sternum, the other playing with the head of his erection where he’s most sensitive, Seth’s chasing his own pleasure now, but he’s still paying close attention to Dean’s every little reaction. There’s no small amount of enjoyment added by the weight of Dean’s gaze, but it's Dean shakily reaching to stroke his sides down to his hips, soft and almost wondering, that finishes it for him, and Seth comes with a jerk and an embarrassingly mangled attempt at Dean's name.

He stays perched there, enjoying the little jolts of pleasure as he keeps up a subtle tilt of his pelvis back and forth, right on the line of overstimulation, but so good that he can't stop. Dean makes a broken, frustrated noise, his hips straining to snap up.

“Oh yeah,” Seth says once he's sure he can talk without moaning. “You probably really wanna come, huh?” Dean snarls in response and Seth grins and presses his tongue to his top front teeth. “Do you wanna come in my ass? You think I should let you?”

“I think you want me to,” Dean huffs, a little petulant. He’s not wrong exactly; Seth does like the feeling, but tonight he wants to watch it more.

“Nah,” Seth smirks, and lifts off, not quite able to stifle his gasp at Dean’s cock slipping free. 

Dean curses and pounds his fists against the bed, but Seth’s right there, coming down on one elbow because he needs as much skin contact as he can get, and he curls his other hand around Dean’s erection, squeezing punishingly tight, just how Dean likes. There's still enough lube to make his strokes smooth, and Dean's cock is warmed from Seth’s body, and maybe it's a little gross to be touching him like this, but Seth couldn't care less, not with all the blood and spit and sheer fucking nastiness they deal with constantly.

“Come on, wanna see it, let me see,” he urges breathlessly. Dean thrashes and Seth watches in fascination as his belly contracts and his chest goes all flushed, and that pained look is back on his face, and it's just so - it’s like Dean might fall apart completely without Seth to hold him together.

Seth rubs his thumb along the underside of Dean’s cock, and presses it to curve a little farther back so it's aimed at Dean’s abs when he comes, adding to the mess Seth had already left there. He can feel it pulsing out of Dean, and Seth’s hypnotized, unable to move or even breath until after that last twitching spurt of semen, and then he all but collapses to get to Dean's mouth, kissing him as deeply as possible.

When Seth pulls away, Dean has gone lax with a contented little smile on his face and his eyes closed. Seth continues staring at him shamelessly. He gives into the urge to touch, brushing some sweat-soaked hair away from Dean’s forehead, then tickling one of his dimples with his index finger before spreading his hands out on Dean's chest to comb through the patch of hair there. And then, because Dean makes him do dirty, silly things, Seth drags his fingers through the sticky puddle of cum and then wipes it on Dean's cheek.

Dean bursts out laughing as he opens his eyes and swats Seth’s arm. “Asshole,” Dean says without rancor.

“Yep,” Seth agrees cheerfully.

Dean doesn't do anything besides scrub his face on a pillow and then turn it dirty side down. He grabs one of their shirts off the end of the bed to wipe his stomach and dick, and that's the extent of his clean up because Dean also does not generally give a shit about bodily fluids. Still, Seth has to tease him, telling him, “You’re disgusting, Ambrose,” as he gets up to go to the bathroom because he requires a bit more freshening up. Dean lazily flicks him off.

The TV is on and Dean is curled up under the covers when Seth comes back. He'd never ever tell Dean, but he likes this part nearly as much as the fucking, when Dean's chilled out and will let Seth spoon with him. He crawls into bed and presses his chest to Dean's back. “We gotta be up in five hours,” he says, checking his phone to make sure the alarm is set.

“Holy shit,” Dean drawls sleepily. “That's like two nights worth of z’s right there.”

It is a decent amount of sleep for them, and Seth could happily pass out. Of course Dean has to ruin it by refusing to turn off the television, and then Seth has to fight him for the remote, which goes on way longer than it should because they're both too stubborn to quit. Seth doesn't really mind though. He is, as always, giggling helplessly at Dean’s antics, and it feels just like old times, this aggressive, camouflaged display of affection. Dean gets Seth on his stomach, draping himself over Seth’s back like a human blanket. His overly forceful nuzzles are ridiculous, and they really shouldn’t make Seth feel as warm as they do.

“Fuck sleep,” Dean breathes, nosing behind Seth’s ear, and Seth decides the man has a point. He can take a little extra sleep deprivation when Dean’s giving him the chance to make up for some more lost time.


End file.
